Cash Cow
by Nanomemes
Summary: Rock Howard tries to join Iori's band. [COMPLETE]
1. Carnivore

_Does anyone like Rockk Howard?_

 _I like him._

 _although this fic doesn't really count as love toward Rock howard._

 _lol jk. actually i don't really care about the guy. his dad's a waterfowl tho. pretty cool yeh?_

* * *

Rock Howard was lost.

All the roads looked identical.

It didn't help that somebody took the liberty to deface every single street sign in the city sector.

The roads were equally defaced, or rather, disused. They were littered with potholes and oil slicks. The buildings bordering the streets weren't much better. Many had boarded up windows. All were covered in graffiti. Strange pharenpelia hung from the electrical wires.

 _Those had better be Halloween decorations..._

Rock felt like there were a thousand eyes watching him as he flew down the streets. They were hostile stares. It was oppressing. It made him squirm in his seat. He didn't want to be here and he regretting coming.

Just when he thought things couldn't be any worse, it began pouring rain.

And Rock Howard was not dressed for the rain.

 _Gah!... even the weather is telling me to go home._

Rock Howard never came to this part of the city. This place made him nervous. It was territory controlled by his fath- no, " _That Person's"_ gang. Rock had spent his entire life distancing himself from his lineage, and therefore, never spent any time in PortTown.

Which was why he was now lost.

 _Damn. It's cold!_

The young man navigated carefully around debris in the street as he rode deeper and deeper into the slums of SouthTown. The rain was coming down in sheets all around him, soaking him down to the bone. He couldn't see much because of the droplets on his goggle lenses, and his tires weren't gripping the road well.

It was just a bad situation.

 _Dammit Terry… I swear, this guy had better be here..._

He was here chasing a fluke.

Last night had found Rock Howard doing coursework on the couch while his adoptive father flipped through TV channels. He was halfway through cramming for calculus when Terry fell asleep, hand on remote. The television was blaring MTV.

Some unfortunate reporter had caught Iori Yagami in a supermarket checkout line and was attempting to interview him. The musician was having none of it, instead opting to advertise the benefits of _only_ eating red meat.

" _\- and you'll never get sick. Why would you eat that evil green stuff? It's toxi-"_

" _Why haven't you released anything in the past six months? Are you planning a new album? Is the band doing alright? Aren't you afraid your ranking will fall?_ "

" _Bitch! Don't interrupt me, I'll fucking eat your camera! Now. as I was saying, Pork chops are the best because-"_

" _Sir, Please! Tell us something!"_

" _No! Go fuck yourself! If you want a new album so bad then fucking replace that asshole, Dave. The idiot got some chick pregnant and moved to fucking Idaho. The hell am I gonna do without a backup guitar? I- …. I have the rewards card already … no, I'll pay cash…. Paper bag is okay, thanks."_

Armed with this knowledge, Rock Howard snatched up his guitar and decided to try his luck.

He was an excellent bass player. In fact, he could replicate any song perfectly. A spot on the #3 top grossing band would _rocket_ -start his career in the music industry. His friends all encouraged him to jump on the opportunity.

Terry hadn't.

" _Rock, the guy is literally insane. I'm not even trying to insult him. Only crazy people can deal with crazy people. You don't wanna be there, trust me."_

But Rock was adamant.

" _Look, I can defend myself pretty well. You don't need to worry, ok? Ugh… don't you understand? This guy is my cash cow! He's my way to the top! You know where he lives right? You gotta tell me! Dad, c'mon. Please!"_

It took a bit of effort, but Terry eventually relented and directed him to a flower shop on Knight Street. Rock had been so excited, he didn't realize it was in the middle of the city slums when he checked the maps.

And now, here he was. Shivering, soaking wet, and lost in the middle of gang territory.

 _Just great. Great._

* * *

 _whee._

 _Can we please get Yamazaki in here? This story needs some Yamazaki._

 _# SRS NOTES_

 _\- this is a short story. prob 3-4 chapters top._

 _\- lol eat ur veggies if you dont wanna die early._


	2. Tea Party from Hell

_Ready for some Yama?_

 _Rock Howard being brave._

 _Yag being awful, as usual._

* * *

The Honda was complaining. It gurgled and sputtered beneath him.

Riding a motorcycle in the rain was _not recommended._ Rock Howard was now experiencing exactly why.

He was cold, wet, blind, miserable….

And he was starting to get angry.

The fact the entire situation was self-inflicted didn't help cool his temper.

 _This is stupid. Terry just gave me some random address. I'm going home._

He skidded the bike through a puddle as he rounded a corner. A wave of muddy water splattered a red vintage mustang parked against the curb.

 _There's no way he lives out here anyways. I'm gonna give Dad an earful._

He pulled the bike out of the turn and flew down the street at full throttle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a beach umbrella billowing in the rain. The umbrella was fixed atop a patio table. He could make out two people sitting underneath it.

 _Hah. Nutcases. This place is full of craz-_

"THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? THREE PERCENT?!"

Rock Howard recognized that voice.

"You don't even watch the markets, toots! You should be happy with three! But if you're not, I'll splatter you like a pomegranate and scurry, _scurry_ away… Hehehe!"

Rock Howard also recognized that voice.

"DON'T CALL ME TOOTS!" resounded off the buildings.

He started, slowed his bike to a standstill, then pondered for a moment. He suddenly felt very nervous. _What if he says no? It'll be so awkward. Sheesh… it looks like he's busy too. Maybe I should come back later?..._

The aspiring bassist shook the doubts from his mind. He muttered to himself, trying to bouy his confidence.

"C'mon man. There's nothing to lose. Just go for it! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Make a good impression. "

Rock Howard swallowed the lump in his throat, turned his bike in a wide arc and rode right up to the strange picnic party. He had to be confident. If he showed fear or uncertainty, there was no way Yagami would let him in the band… that is, if the position wasn't filled already.

 _You got this Rock! There's no way you're not good enough. If he says no, It's his loss okay? Get in there! Just act cool. Be cool... Be cool._

The little speech Rock had been preparing in his head was immediately forgotten as he approached the table. The scene was just a bit too bizarre for him to do anything but stare in confusion - much less introduce himself.

Two familiar faces sat across from each other over a tiny floral-patterned porcelain tea set. There was water leaking through the beach umbrella, fat droplets dripped on the two men. They were staring each other down and didn't seem to mind getting rained on.

Neither did they mind when Rock Howard maneuvered his motorcycle beneath the umbrella to take shelter from the rain. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible, but they hardly spared him a glance.

… _okay, you made it… what now…_

The table was planted in the center of the road. There were four fragile looking chairs. It seemed like they were struggling to support the weights placed upon them. The building to the left was a sad looking flower shop. The building to the right was almost certainly a crackhouse. Iori Yagami stood abruptly, knocked his stool over, and began yelling. His cigarette magically stuck to his lip as he spat everywhere. He pointed his teaspoon accusingly at the man across the table.

"I don't pay you to get me three percent! I don't give a shit if everything's going to hell, fucking get me 5 or I'll fire you."

Ryuji Yamazaki was seated across from the redhead. He was sipping his… _liquor?_ out of a flowery teacup. He was dressed in his trademark black outfit with a ratty looking fur coat thrown over his shoulders. It looked like he had found dead animal and draped it over himself. _Honestly, it could be roadkill..._

The man slammed his tiny teacup down on the glass-topped table and began laughing. It sounded uncannily like a hyena's. The saucer split in two halves.

"Hehehe, Ey, music boy! You know I'm the best at what I do! Wanna go? I'll dance! We can do a little _discoo~_ I'll chop you up like a melon."

Sure, Yamazaki looked absolutely ridiculous. _Almost_ more ridiculous than Iori, who had decided it was appropriate to wear nothing but a pair of sweatpants and flip-flops in the bitterly cold rain. But what was worse was both were very clearly insane.

Rock Howard pulled off his riding goggles. Yamazaki began gargling the caviar. Iori snatched up the two halves of the saucer and began a sorry attempt to weld them together. He eventually gave up and flung it to the curb where it shattered. Rock was starting to feel the weight of Terry's words. " _Only crazy people can deal with crazy people."_

"Disco music is a disgrace and you know it! Mention it again and I'll gut you like a fish!"

… _Maybe Dad was right. Should I just leave?_

"Gut me?! Hehe! I bleed orange juice you know!~"

 _No. You'll regret it if you don't at least try. You said so yourself right? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity._

"Just Die Yamazaki!"

Iori whirled to kick at his fallen stool. It flew over to hit a parked vehicle. He stood motionless and glared daggers at the blond man as the car siren blared in the background. Yamazaki was holding his stomach is silent laughter. Rock Howard wanted to go home.

He had always been a bit shy. He didn't much like venturing beyond his comfort zone. As it turned out, beneath Iori Yagami's picnic umbrella was probably the furthest he'd even been from comfortable. He was cold, wet and feeling extremely self conscious.

… _get this over with Rock! Come on._

He felt like he had fallen into wonderland and stumbled upon the Mad hatter's tea party. He sat there, his front tire three inches from the table's edge. Thinking of an appropriate way to interrupt the conversation.

 _Okay, you got this. Say something cool._

He opened his mouth to speak… just as Yamazaki knocked into the Honda's handlebars to refill his teacup with the bottle of Hennessy. The motorcycle jerked slightly. It wasn't enough to topple it, but _was_ enough to make Rock Howard to bite his tongue. He emitted a squeak. Both men looked briefly at him then returned to glaring and giggling, respectively.

 _God..._

Rock Howard wanted to sink into the ground.

Iori wandered off into the rain to retrieve his stool from across the street. Yamazaki shouted after him. That ever present mirth crackled in his voice.

"Howard Connection does 10% you know. Local too~ hey? Ten. Ten is bigger than five. Five is bigger than _three!_ "

"I know how to count asshole! Get out of here or I'll cut you in half!"

Iori yelled at him from across the street. His voice was almost drowned out by the torrential rain. He hoisted up his stool and whirled to hurl it at hard as he could at the gangster. Yamazaki's arm whipped out like a snake to strike it midair. It broke into several pieces. Rock quickly shielded his head from the bits of plastic that showered him. An entire stool leg fell into the bowl of caviar on the table. Nobody bothered to remove it.

"Eyy Eyy! Did you threaten me? ME? Okay! Let's dance! Let's _disco._ I'll feed you to the sharks."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT DISCO! YOU'RE DEAD!"

"Hahaha! Let's go _bay-beee~_ "

Yamazaki leapt up from his seat and lunged at his client. Iori was all too ready to meet him. They wrestled for a bit, before abruptly sitting back down. Iori re-lit the cigarette the rain had extinguished and leaned forward to continue yelling at the gangster. He got a faceful of documents instead.

"Take a good look _melonhead_!~"

"You're fired."

Iori grumbled, as he peeled the contract off his face. He began reading through it. Yamazaki produced a set of glasses and a highlighter. In a split second, the two crazies had gone from " _tea party from hell"_ to selling investments. It was just a bit too fast paced for Rock Howard. He was just about ready to leave.

 _Don't do it man. You'll regret it! you'll punch yourself the moment you go._

"Disco is ass. Admit it and I'll let you live… where's the cash flow?"

"Awww is the little music boy _angry?_ ~ I've got some Xanax in the car if you need it- It's on the third page, blind boy!"

"I'M NOT BLIND!" Iori howled as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes. He snatched the pen Yamazaki was waving at him and angrily signed the documents. Then, he produced his chequebook, scribbled something down, and tore out the receipt before handing both to the gangster.

"Hehehe! Okay, whatever you say _Helen Keller!_ Bye bye now!~"

"She was DEAF you asshole!"

Yamazaki ducked to dodge a flaming bowl of caviar as he crossed the street. He turned to grin and flipped Iori off before climbing into a tall black cadillac and skidding away. Iori clutched his teacup and saucer as he howled profanities at the car until it disappeared.

Rock's plan of 'acting cool' hadn't worked out for him at all. He just sat there on his Honda, wondering what to do with himself.

Iori Yagami sat next to him, half naked, soaking wet, and sipping liquor out of a teacup. He glanced over at the teenager, nodded, then returned to his drink.

… _somebody help me._

* * *

 _So wiki says Yama's a successful broker, weapons trader and drug dealer. That's pretty cool tbh (i mean, not the illegal part but yanno), like the guy is pretty darn smart if he can deal with the underground financial world. It's like wall street, but the stakes are higher._

 _Cuz if you goof, you don't get fired or sued. You get shot._

 _I'd deffo want that kinda guy to do my finances lol. The fact he's alive means he doesn't make mistakes. go figure._

 _You never thought of Yamazaki like that before huh?_

 _lol._

 _somebody help rock name this chapter._

Reviw plz i luv


	3. Shoes, Bitch

_next chap prob last. have more insane Yag._

 _Terry a good dad._

* * *

The car siren stopped blaring.

The rain was letting off, it reduced to a light shower. The sun peeked through the clouds, the sprinkling rain fell through golden beams of light. The cold air had become balmy and warm. The sun raised his spirits.

It _would have_ raised his spirits.

If Iori Yagami wasn't staring into his soul.

The red-haired man was balanced on a cheap plastic stool two feet from Rock's motorcycle. He had turned his neck nearly ninety degrees to fix Rock with a scrutinizing stare. A sad looking cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. It matched his equally sad looking attire - which included nothing less than one set of dripping wet pants and a single neon green flip-flop. The other shoe was laying in the gutter thirty feet away. Iori had lost it during his impromptu wrestling match with his financial advisor and hadn't bothered to pick it up.

He had fastened his wet bangs behind his ear with a couple of bobby pins and was holding a flowery teacup filled with expensive liquor. He wasn't moving at all. He just stared at the young man beside him with wide eyes.

 _Oh geez… oh geez. Is there something on my face?_

Rock Howard was visibly squirming in his seat. He didn't know whether to look at Iori or not. Only thirty seconds had passed since the rain stopped and Iori started trying to read his mind, but to Rock, it might as well have been an eternity.

"You know this kid?"

A deep voice interrupted the awkward silence. Rock Howard almost jumped out of his seat. Iori's accent was almost as peculiar as he was. It was a marriage between angry japanese and drunk spanish - but was somehow perfectly understandable. The girls loved it.

"Uh..."

Iori was staring straight at him, he raised his cognac to his lips as if awaiting an answer. Rock rapidly looked around. There was nobody else within earshot.

"Oh. I thought he was your friend."

 _...What!?_

"Mine? No. Don't be silly. I don't have friends."

 _...Is he talking to himself?... I didn't know people did this in real life..._

"I told you, Kusanagi's not my friend. You shouldn't be friends with him either. He's a piece of shit."

 _..._

"I don't care if he took you to eat Barbeque. Don't hang out with him. He even made you pay that time."

Iori broke eye contact to refill his teacup. Rock released a pent up breath and began fingering the ignition on his bike.

"Yeah, he did. I checked my credit card bill. Not that money matters to _you_ anyways."

Iori sighed and put the Hennessy down with a clack. He plucked the cigarette from his lips and threw it into the street. It combusted into flames and disappeared in a whiff of smoke. He leaned over the table and began carving at the umbrella pole with his fingernails. He tone went soft as he continued conversing with himself.

"No, No. I'm not mad. Vice and Mature spend a lot more than you do. Don't worry about it."

Rock Howard stared at the back of the musician's head, trying to build the courage to speak.

"Paintball?... If you want… Thursday's all yours. Just don't get me killed or arrested. Anyways, Shates said she wants to repaint the store, do it if you're feeling up to it." He leaned back, yawned, and examined his nails with a bored expression.

 _Deep breath. Just introduce yourself okay?_

"Uh, … Mr. Yagami. I'm-"

"Could you not _fucking_ interrupt!?"

Iori whirled to snarl at him. His fingers snapped through the tabletop. Long cracks snaked their way across the glass. Rock Howard blinked. He had never seen somebody get so angry, so quickly. He stuttered an apology. _Holy shit!_

"... S-Sorry."

The anger evaporated and insane man was calm again. He pulled his hand out of the glass pane and sipped from his teacup. He gestured vaguely toward the table as if asking Rock to take a seat. He spoke in the same flat voice as before.

"Let him finish. He's retarded, so talking takes a lot of effort."

"... Sure. O-Okay."

Rock Howard wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. He shakily dismounted his bike and pulled one of the cheap plastic chairs out from beneath the table. He got what he wanted. An audience with Iori Yagami. His plan had been to turn it into an audition...

But he hadn't anticipated the musician to behave like a schizophrenic bear.

After witnessing Iori Yagami negotiate a contract and hold a conversation with himself, Rock was beginning to have second thoughts about his 'cash cow'. _Do I really want to do this?_

"You _are_ retarded. Don't- … yeah, yeah of _course_ it's a compliment. Whatever."

Rock sat down and tried to calm his nerves. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. _But if I get in… even for just a year or two… just deal with the psycho for a little bit… my music career will take off… I need to do this… At the very least, I need to try my best or I'll never forgive myself._

Iori sighed and rapped his teaspoon against the table. He had evidently finished talking to the voice in his head and was now staring annoyingly at Rock. The young man opened his eyes and sat at attention. _Okay. It's Showtime._

"Alright kid. Want some Hennassey?"

"I can't drink yet. I'm only nineteen."

Iori shrugged. "I'm twenty five. I'll lend you two years."

"I don't think that's how it works…"

Iori frowned and glowered down at him. He tapped his nails slowly against the table. They made a sharp metallic noise with each impact. Rock stared down at his lap and cursed under his breath.

 _What the hell are you doing Rock! He just offered you a drink. Just drink. He's gonna freak out again. You just ruined your chances. You're done. That's it. Time to go home._

Apparently, Iori heard him berate himself and chuckled dryly. His attitude flipped again. The red haired man stopped glaring. He planted his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek against his hand. The atmosphere lightened significantly. "What's a law abiding kid like you doing down in these parts? I'm Iori by the way."

Rock raised his head. Iori Yagami had just given him a second chance. He was going to run with it. He quickly stood up to introduce himself.

"I'm Rock Howard, very nice to meet you sir!"

"Sure, Sure." Iori gestured for him to continue.

"I heard your band needed a guitarist. I was wondering if you were still looking for somebody to fill the role… um. I brought my guitar. I can show you wha-"

Iori interrupted him. "Literally I've been getting calls all day about that. Look-" he produced his cellphone. _Three hundred missed calls._ "My email is worse."

 _Dammit. Everyone's got the same idea as me, huh?_

Rock's smile faltered. He tried to mask his disappointment. "… so you've already found someone?"

"No."

"... Can … I audition for the role?"

"You want to?"

" _Yes!_ "

Iori yawned. "It's not that easy, kid. You've got to beat me first, then you can audition. That's the rule."

… _oh goddammit._

"What does fighting have to do with playing the guitar?"

Iori blinked.

"...Nothing."

Rock Howard grimaced. Iori Yagami was a force of nature in the ring. He was one of those 'sacred treasures' that saved the world a couple of years ago. He never went easy on anyone either. Rock could actually die. There was no shame in backing out of this fight. Even Terry would understand.

But Rock Howard was going to do it. There was every reason to step down, but he wouldn't. His mind said ' _stop_ ', but there was an evil hissing in his blood. His violent pedigree was resurfacing. Half of him wanted to fight. The other half, _his sensible half,_ was telling him to run. Iori watched the young man's silent struggle from across the table.

 _I'm going to die…_

His voice came out with a prideful sneer. It conveyed a confidence he didn't have.

"I'll take you on. Get ready to cry, Yagami!"

 _I'm fucked._

Iori dead expression broke into a grin. There was a glint in his eye that wasn't there before. "No shit, huh? I can get behind that spunk. Wait right here, I'm gonna grab my sneakers."

He disappeared around the block.

 _Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit Dammit! Oh God, I'm finished!_

Rock whipped out his cell phone and dialed his adoptive father. Terry had fought Iori before. He was bound to have some tips. _He's gonna be mad though, ugh._

*Brrrrrrr- click*

* _Hey_ _Rock! Where are you? Wanna catch Lunch? I'm thinkin-_ *

"Dad, I'm about to fight Iori."

 _*... What the hell! What were you thinking! Get out of there right away!-*_

"WHO THE FUCK GOT MUD ON MY FUCKING MUSTANG! I'M GONNA CUT A BITCH!"

Howling resounded from behind the building.

"… shit."

 _*... Rock, you Idiot… Okay, I'm coming to where you are. Knight Street, right? Try to hold out. Try to stall. If you can't stall, you need to be really careful. Don't get sloppy with that guy. You make a single mistake, and he'll kill you. Mary! I'm gonna borrow your patrol car… how do I turn on the siren!?... yeah… ok….(noises)...*_

"Dad?"

 _*...*_

"Dad? Hello?"

 _*...*_

* * *

 _Iori fights in loafers._

 _Bonus points if you know who Yag's talking to._

 _Did you know that Japanese ppl usually refer to eachoother by their last names? kinda like the military - like 'hey Parker', rather than 'hey Peter' or 'Hi spiderman'_

So all the american dudes in my stories generally call ppl by their first names. the Japanese guys call ppl by the last name. I try to keep it somewhat consistant.


	4. Bawlin' Ballin'

_Time for this story to live up to it's tag._

 _Lol, Rock is an angery boi._

* * *

The sun was breaking through the clouds.

It sent beams of light down on the damp city.

Rock Howard bounced on the balls of his feet. His brow was furrowed as he stretched. He cracked his knuckles and threw a few practice punches into the air. The nervousness in his stomach was only matched by the excitement in his heart and the dread in his brain.

 _He's not fighting to kill right?... I mean, He's not in jail… and he never killed anyone during the tournaments… I won't die, right?_

Terry said he was on his way. He must have been hanging out at Mary's workplace if he was borrowing her patrol car. Her office was in SouthTown's central district. At best, Terry would arrive in ten minutes - seven if he was speeding. Rock eyed the corner of the building. He expected Iori to come back at any moment.

He closed his eyes and exhaled forcefully. The air was thick with humidity and stuck in his nostrils. He was feeling sick with anticipation. He tried boost his confidence with a pep-talk. It wasn't really working.

 _Alright man. You got this. Just hold out for a little, ok? Then Dad'll get here and he'll sort this mess out… You can do this. He's just another fighter okay? He's no big deal. You've beaten tons of guys. You're strong alright? You got this Rock Howar-_

*BEEP BEEP*

Rock looked up.

 _God, Please save me-... why did he bring... is he gonna run me over?!_

Iori had rounded the corner in a car and was honking at him. Rock would've smiled at the sight if he wasn't afraid for his life. He was preparing to dive out of the way of the car, but thankfully it seemed Iori wasn't interested in hit-and-run today. The man was sitting in an adorable little black Volkswagen hatchback that was far too small for it's driver. He stuck his head out of the window and began yelling instructions.

"Park your bike over there and hop in. We're headed to the park."

Rock opened and closed the mouth a few times before words came to him.

"... Wait! the park? Why!?"

"What do you mean, _why?_ Get going!"

He pulled his head back through the window and watched Rock through the tinted windshield. He tapped his steering wheel impatiently, then twisted around to shovel around a few things in the back.

 _Shit…_

Iori was changing the fight's location. This was a problem. They needed to fight here if Terry was going to find them. If Terry didn't find them, Rock was going to either die, or spend the next month in the hospital. Iori began yelling at him again.

"What's wrong with you! Let's go… hey… hell-o?"

Rock Howard needed to stay on Knight street until Terry arrived. Terry had left his cellphone in Mary's police station. _Good going Dad._ _Hurry up and_ _bail me out… god, why did I do this?_

The young man gritted his teeth and jogged up to Iori's window. He stood there with a grim expression on his face. Iori looked confusingly up at him.

 _I need to get him to fight me here... I've gotta rile him up... ohh God._

He exhaled, then put on his most authoritative voice. He was glad his speech wasn't shaking as badly as his hands were.

"Let's do it right here. Get out of the car."

Iori frowned and looked down the street. Evidently, whatever he was searching for wasn't there. He looked back at Rock. His expression was blank.

"... do what?"

Rock clenched his fists. _Just a few more minutes… okay?_ Iori had fixed him with that same wide-eyed, searching stare. They eyed each other in silence. Rock summoned his courage once more. He was feigning anger, but dread filled his chest as he spoke.

"Stop playing dumb and get out! Are you scared? Stop being a pussy and fight!"

 _Oh my god. I'm finished._

Iori blinked at him. He seemed to realize something. A mischievous glint appeared briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with opaque rage. Rock noticed the man's strange behavior, but was too nervous to dwell on it.

 _... is he... taking the bait? What was that? Dammit Dad, drive faster please!_

Iori emitted a soft hiss. His countenance was dark, and his teeth were bared. He spoke slowly.

"Say that again. Go on, Rock Howard. I dare you."

 _Fuck my life. Haha... ho-oly shit. What am I doing?!_

He was almost smiling as he delivered the line. The scene was so comical, and the grave he was digging for himself was so absurd, that he had stopped taking things seriously.

"I'll make you eat asphalt, dipshit! Stop hiding in there! Your little car isn't gonna protect you! You were itching for a fight earlier, right? Are you backing out now? Spineless coward! Get out here!"

The sun was shining down on him. Rock was enjoying the warmth on his skin. He was convinced this was the last time he would feel it. He closed his eyes and strained his ears for the sound of sirens in the distance. Nothing.

 _Dad! Where are you… I think I'm gonna die._

Guttural snarling emitted from the vehicle. Rock's heart shook within him. He looked up and squinted at the sun. He noticed the snarling was punctuated with a strange choking noise. _What's wrong with him! Oh god... somebody get me out of here..._

He felt a flick to his elbow. He snapped his chin down to look, terrified, at the red-haired man. Iori looked appropriately terrifying. He growled at Rock.

"You know who I am, brat?"

 _If I'm gonna die anyways..._

"I'm not scared of your gay-ass purple fire. Get out here, worm!"

Iori was searching Rock's face. He seemed to be amused by something, but his voice came out dark and threatening. _He think's I'm too weak right? Shit... No I'm not! I'll... uh..._

"...You're a dead man."

Rock believed him. He slowly backed away from the car and waited for Iori to come out. He thought he heard a siren in the distance, but it might've just been wishful thinking.

Iori was taking his time. He turned his face away from Rock's line of sight and stayed like that for a long moment. Finally, he turned around, threw the door open and climbed out. Rock backed further away from the car. He definitely heard a siren. That siren was his hope.

 _Timer starts now… You can do this Rock._

Iori looked more like a normal person with a shirt on, but the expression on his face was nothing short of bestial. His teeth were bared and clicked with each breath. His eyes burned like two live coals in his head. He slammed the door shut and fell into his fighting stance. He spoke from behind those terrible hooked claws.

"I hope you said your prayers, Howard."

 _Hurry up Terry!_

Rock gulped and put up a guard. Adrenaline was rushing through him. He was feeling a bit light-headed. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. He spoke loudly, moreso to bouy his confidence, than to insult Iori. The man seemed to know this. The corner of his mouth twitched as Rock yelled at him.

"You're nothing to me, Bitch!"

Iori's facade began to crack. Rock wasn't paying attention.

 _A chin strike… I can end it. Or the temple, It'll knock him right out…_

Iori watched him calmly from behind raised arms. Rock eyed those hooked fingers warily. He had seen them carve into steel before - they could certainly cleave through bone. _I'm dead, I'm dead. This isn't fair at all!_

Nevertheless, the young fighter gritted his teeth and lunged in to hurl a punch at Iori's face. The redhead stepped backwards and watched _almost mirthfully_ as Rock's fist grazed the tip of his nose. He smacked his opponent's extended arm to the side, cracking open his guard.

 _Dammit!_

Rock panicked as his arm was flung away. He guarded his face with his other arm, but his stomach was wide open. He tensed up, ready for a fist, or worse, a stab to the gut. He involuntarily squeezed his eyes closed.

… _Shit! Dad, where are you!_

His knee buckled from a low kick. A shove to his chest sent him reeling. Rock shouted as he fell. He landed flat on his behind, he quickly turtled up- expecting kicks.

…

None came.

Rock opened his eyes at the sound of unpleasant laughter. He kept is guard up as Iori turned around and started walking away from him. He stared incredulously as the insane musician opened his car's back door and began digging for something. He shouted at Rock from within the car.

"You violent little brat! You're crazy, you know?"

 _What's going on… is he gonna shoot me now?_

Iori didn't pull out a gun. Rather, he produced a basketball. He tossed it at Rock and cackled as the confused teenager caught it with his forehead. Iori's gums were bared in his horrible trademark grin, but his eyes were smiling. He spoke to the seated teenager as he walked over.

"The fuck you think you're doing? Trying to fight me."

The anger in his voice was gone.

Rock was shaking like a leaf by the time Iori stopped in front of him and squatted down to his eye-level. The teenager held the ball in his hands, he didn't know what to do with it. His forehead stung where the ball had bounced off. There was too much adrenaline in coursing through his brain for him to think straight.

He stared dumbly at Iori and emitted a weak, "...what?"

Iori was still grinning as he spoke. His teeth had stopped clicking. Rock just stared at the top of his head. The man's chosen headgear didn't make the scene any more believable. Iori had opted to dress normally, but had pinned his hair back with an exercise headband. He looked like a girl. Rock gulped air like a goldfish out of water.

 _Am I saved? What's happening? I don't know-_

"A few years ago, I got tired of my band-mates kissing ass. I installed a little tradition. Whoever joins has to beat me in a sporting event. A little bit of victory helps people's nerves." he gestured vaguely, "Confidence. You know."

Iori produced a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it, then continued talking.

"Besides you, there were two other guys who came to audition this morning. One was complete garbage in baseball. The other couldn't sight-read for shit. Neither of them were afraid to challenge me 'cause they _did. their. research._ "

He tapped the basketball to punctuate his words. It made a hollow noise.

"You hadn't."

Rock stared down at the ball in his hands, his thoughts were swimming. The situation was so strange, it felt almost like a weird fever dream. Rock slowly raised his eyes to meet Iori's mirthful gaze.

"A-Are you serious?!"

"What! You think I'm gonna murder everyone who tries to talk to me?! I'm not insane you know!" He chuckled to himself. "That's rich... ppft..."

Rock's head was beginning to clear. He squinted incredeously at the red-haired man.

"You... Wait! Why were you were all excited to figh- I mean… uh. You know! When I challenged you!"

Iori cackled.

"Well you said you were gonna make me cry! I'm pretty damn good at sports, I'm hard to beat, but I'm an even better fighter. If I made everyone fight me, I wouldn't have a band. I mean, shit…"

Iori stood, he motioned Rock to his feet. "Even _I_ don't wanna fight against myself. I'm really glad nobody cloned me. Kusanagi's a nutjob so he seems to enjoy it. Anyways, you've got some _serious_ guts, kid…" He turned to walk toward the car.

"Or you're just crazy... both are fine. I don't judge. Get in, we're going to the park. Let's see if your basketball is good enough to get me sobbing."

* * *

 _If you join Yag's band, you'll eventually end up playing paintball with Riot._

 _Where's padre?_


	5. On the Hunt

_Remember when I said this story was gonna have a maximum of four chapters?_

 _Lol, stop believing me when I say stuff like that._

 _(edited): So, when you upload at 2AM, you write 'The Rock' instead of Rock. and it sounds like Terry is running around looking for a tan wrestler._

* * *

Terry Bogard was panicking.

The police car's siren was blaring in his ears as he tore down the streets of SouthTown.

Ten minutes ago, his son had called him, saying he was about to fight Iori Yagami. Terry knew that the boy wouldn't stand a chance, he wasn't nearly experienced enough. Even if Iori didn't use his flames… heck, even if Iori didn't used his ' _choppy hands'_ , Rock would be in for a real beating. Terry didn't know why they were fighting. It obviously hadn't been spontaneous if Rock had time to call him beforehand.

 _It was a planned fight?... what kind of nonsense did that guy pull to make Rock fight him?... He isn't normally so bloodthirsty… did Rock piss him off?_

Terry turned into Knight street and slowed down. There was a table and an umbrella set up in the center of the road up ahead, no doubt Iori's handiwork. Rock's motorcycle was parked outside of the flower shop. His guitar was still strapped to the back of the bike. Terry turned off the siren and listened for sounds of a fight.

 _Nothing?_

Everything was silent. The fight was finished. If Rock's motorcycle was here, the two had fought somewhere in this area… but where were they? Was Rock sitting on a curb somewhere, bleeding out? Terry began yelling.

"Rock! Rock Howard where are you!"

There was no response.

The blond man gritted his teeth. Anger began building behind his eyes as he imagined the worst. _Iori you piece of shit! I'll bash your brains out if you lay a finger on my kid!_

He stopped the car next to the picnic table, and stepped out. He briefly examined what he presumed was the battlefield as he strode past. One of the stools had been smashed to pieces over the table. There was shattered glass on the ground. A single green sandal was laying in the gutter. There were a few signs of what _could've been_ a fight… but Iori did all sorts of crazy things on his own. It didn't take _any_ stretch of the imagination to say ' _Iori Yagami got angry at his tea-set and decided to smash it_ '.

But Terry wasn't thinking completely rationally at this point. The only thing on his mind was finding Yagami and punching him until he got Rock's location. Terry cracked his knuckles. Today, the Legendary Hungry Wolf was treasure hunting.

"Roooock! ROCK! Where are you! Yagami! YA-GA-MI! Get your ass out here you snake!"

Terry raced around the corner. Iori lived above _Ms. Shates' Flower Emporium._ The entrance to his home was in the back. Terry was going to break into Iori's house, break Iori's jaw, then find his son. _Hold on Rock! I'm coming!_

Terry sprinted past a muddy red mustang and up the steps to Iori's flat. He punched through the door and lunged into the living room. The remains of Iori's front door fell around him in wood chips. He panted and examined the small apartment through squinted eyes.

 _Not home?... is he dumping Rock's body somewhere?! Am I too late!... Gah, Calm down. Okay… Okay…_

The blond man took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

 _Iori doesn't just randomly kill people… and he definitely won't kill a kid. He doesn't make mistakes either… so Rock has gotta be alive somewhere… He's not here, so… Maybe the nutjob dropped him in a hospital or something?_

Terry quickly patted his pockets for his phone. He was going to ask Mary to call the surrounding clinics and tell the other cops to keep a lookout for a sliced up teenager.

 _But… If Rock is alive… and he's done fighting… what hasn't he called me!... what's keeping him from calling? He must be-... where's my cell?_

Terry frowned when his pockets came up phone-less. He checked his jacket, then checked his pockets again. _Did I leave it in the car? … wait…_

Terry flicked on the lightswitch and walked over to the wall. There was an old wall-mounted phone hanging there. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Terry plucked up the receiver and was relieved to hear a dial tone. He punched in Mary's number and prayed for her to pick up.

*Brrrr*

*Brrr- chack*

 _*This is Offic-*_

"Mary! I can't find Rock! Can you call the hospitals?! I think he's hurt somewhere!"

 _*Terry! Oh, good! You left your phone here! Rock called you like eight times. He says he's in the nearby park on third street -*_

"Okay! I'm going!"

*- _playing basketball with Iori. He said not to worry about him. He thought he had to beat the guy in a fight, but it turns out, …uh… Terry are you there? Hello?... Terry?_ *

Terry had already flown down the steps and was sprinting toward his car. He left Mary on the phone, which was now dangling from its cord.

He was going to rescue his son if it was the last thing he did.

"Hold on, Rock... I'm coming."

* * *

 _I dunno. Terry just seems like the type of person who just gets up and goes when his loved ones are in trouble... even if somebody is on the other line, telling him his loved ones aren't actually in trouble._

Like, Comment and subscribe.


	6. I'm NOT okay!

_Laits fait Tarry!_

 _wreeddy GO!_

* * *

Blood pounded in his ears.

The sun blazed down on sweaty backs.

Their stances were low, they stared each other down across the court. The red-haired man's eyes were shadowed and intense. They burned as they peered into his opponent's soul.

But this time, Rock wasn't scared.

A whistle blew, the ball was tossed skywards. Rock squinted through the sunlight as he leapt for it. Iori was about a quarter head taller than he was, and managed to tip the ball first.

They hit the ground and began jostling. The small crowd, which had gathered to watch them pl-…watch _Iori play,_ began whooping and cheering, but Rock was too concentrated to notice them. Right now, his world consisted of one person, and one ball.

 _There!... gotcha!_

Rock had always played aggressively. He constantly toed the line of 'legal' and 'foul', especially on offense. The people he played with complained so much about being shoved about, that they made him swear to no-contact after he fractured someone's arm.

Rock had been worried Iori would require the same strict adherence to the rules.

He shouldn't have.

Iori was even more aggressive than he was. Better yet, he didn't seem to mind taking the occasional shoulder to the ribs. Rock Howard never imagined that one day he'd be able to body-slam Iori Yagami without any repercussions, but here he was. He mashed his shoulder against Iori and reached across to knock the ball from his hands. He smirked at the man's dismayed expression.

 _That's what you get for pulling that stupid fighting stunt… Time to cry._

Iori wasn't lying when he said he was good, but Rock had learned from the best. Terry was nicknamed 'King of the Court' back when he still played. As the man got busier with other pursuits, the 'King' died. Now, there were only whispers of him in the streets.

The ball bounced out from Iori's grasp. They both lunged for it. Rock reached it first, but Iori was all over him in an instant. That terrifying 'battle instinct' Iori had exercised before, didn't seem to apply here. This was even ground, a level playing field.

And Rock was winning 5:3.

 _I've got this in the bag… heh, I'll make you proud Terry!_

Rock grinned to himself and dribbled from side to side. Iori's brow was furrowed in concentration, he mirrored Rock's movements as he followed the ball. Rock snorted as he noticed his opponent's headband was coming loose and his hair was sticking up in different directions.

 _I bet he dresses bad on purpose. Must get a kick out of it…_

Suddenly, an arm shot in like a snake, disturbing the basketball's movements. The ball flew sideways. Iori charged past, following it. Rock cursed under his breath then gave chase as well. _Gah! I got sloppy._

Iori had a head start, he was about to snatch the ball out of the air and lay-up into the hoop. The man cackled. Rock gritted his teeth and ran desperately after him, determined to prevent the point. _Too late, he's gonna scor-_

Then, strangely, Iori seemed to forget about the ball entirely. The grin dropped off his face. He brought his arm up to guard the side of his head and stared, wide eyed, at something to his left.

 _Huh? Wha-?_

There was a shout.

A painful crunch.

Then Iori was catapulted, screeching, through the nearby hedge.

* * *

 _T- Are you ok?_

 _I- eh?_

 _T- Bustah whullff!_

 _I- what da fu-_


	7. Duck Soup

_My poor bby. Why does everyone bully you? come here let me hug u._

 _terry knoes better :(_

* * *

 _Third Street… THERE!_

Terry Bogard screeched to a halt and leapt out of his vehicle. Across the street was the park. A crowd of cheering spectators had gathered around the basketball court. Anyone else would have concluded there was an interesting game taking place, but Terry knew better.

 _They ARE still fighting?! That means I'm not too late!_

Terry sprinted across the road. A car honked at him as he ran in front of it. He wasn't really looking at his surroundings. He was more concerned with the flash of red hair he saw at the center of the court. His vision was beginning to tunnel. A singular goal consumed his mind.

That goal was to punch Iori Yagami shitless.

Terry shoved past a line of spectators as he flew at the red-haired man, fist withdrawn. They cursed and yelled at him, but he didn't hear them. Neither did he see that Rock was unharmed and was trying to steal a basketball from between Iori's legs. What he did notice, however, was Iori's expression. He was wearing his horrible grin. A look of triumph flashed in his eyes. Terry was going to knock that look right out of him.

 _If you wanna bully my kid, you better be prepared to face me! LET'S GO!_

With a shout, Terry threw his fist at Iori's head. Iori noticed too late to dodge. His grin became a terrified look. He snapped his arm up to guard and opened his mouth to yell.

… _weird. I didn't expect to get the first hit… He's normally better than this. Ha! Lucky!_

A single arm wasn't enough to absorb the impact Terry unleashed at it. There was a sickening crunch as Iori's shoulder was snapped out of it's socket. He was knocked off his feet and flew until he was swallowed by the hedge lining the court. He immediately began screeching like a banshee.

 _That was… easy…_

Terry was honestly surprised. Usually, attacking from a blind spot didn't work on this fighter. Iori had some weird battle-sense that put him two steps ahead of anyone he fought, including Terry. Perhaps he wasn't paying attention? _Whatever._ Terry was relieved to have put Iori down so quickly. He turned to Rock, who was standing beside him.

"Hey kiddo, Are you alrigh-"

Terry stopped talking when he caught Rock's expression. The boy was staring at him in shock and dismay. His mouth was dropped open. A basketball fell from between his hands. It traveled past Terry, tapping against the ground until it lost momentum and hit the grass. Terry watched it roll to a stop.

 _Oh…_

The crowd had fallen silent. The only noise was the low drone of the cityscape and Iori's angry screaming from within the park's prized hedge maze.

Rock worked his jaw up and down a few times before he spoke. His words came out as a little more than a soft whisper.

"Dad… what are you doing…"

"... Well… Mary said…hm... "

Terry rubbed the back of his head. He realized how bad this looked to the spectators. He had essentially appeared out of nowhere and interrupted a basketball game by breaking one of the contestant's arms. It would be a hard sell to convince _anyone_ he had good intentions in mind, much less the famously unreasonable Iori Yagami.

 _... Damn... I messed something up didn't I?..._

There was no foreseeable scenario where Iori wouldn't go batshit on him. Rock seemed to harbor the same worries. He spoke briefly as he pushed past his father and approached the screeching bush.

"... I'll try to explain, alright?… you should go."

But Terry wasn't about to leave his son in the company of an angry pyromaniac, he stayed stubbornly on the court. He noticed the spectating crowd had grown larger. Rock shouted as he stepped into the grass.

"Hey! Are you alrig- _gah!_ "

Rock turned to shield from a wave of heat. The air began to crackle. There was a flash of purple-white light. The screaming continued throughout. It was giving Terry a headache.

"BOGAAAARD YOU FUUUUCK!"

Iori howled from within a growing fireball. The lovingly maintained hedges disintegrated beneath purple flames. Iori staggered to his feet and strode toward them, cloaked head to toe in blazing armour. His right shoulder was wrenched oddly; the arm swung limply at his side. He ignored the injury and stalked toward the court, breathing out threats and murder. His good arm was pointed accusingly at Terry. The grass writhed as it folded up and shriveled around his feet. He left charred footprints in the grass.

"YOU ASSHOLE! I'LL ROAST YOU ALIVE! MOVE, HOWARD!"

 _Ah shit._

Terry gritted his teeth and fell into his battle stance, it looked like Iori was pretty serious about killing him. Those flames were hard to deal with, but they were _only_ in second-degree-burn territory at the moment. Terry needed to end this before Iori ramped up the heat.

 _If I can land a punch to the head, I can knock him out… wait, but what if I snap his neck?... shit… I feel bad killing him… this is my fault after all…_

"YOU'RE DEAD, TERR- Howard! What are you doing!"

"Rock! Get back! I'll take care of him!"

Rock had run up to stand between his father and his potential boss in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. He wasn't doing a very good job.

"Can we _please_ just talk this out?"

"BITCHASS BROKE MY ARM WHAT IS THERE TO TALK ABOUT! MOVE!"

"Rock! I said get out!"

Iori strode up to the teenager and glared down at him. The ground around them was catching fire. Flames licked up around Rock's ankles, but the teenager didn't seem to be feeling any heat. It seemed the musician wasn't quite willing to murder his basketball buddy. Not yet, at least.

Rock, uncharacteristically, glared right back at the red-haired man. There was a snarl in his voice that wasn't normally there. His eyes were shadowed, and a sneer - reminiscent of his biological father - twisted his boyish features.

 _Geese's blood!_

"Back off Yagami! Touch him and I'll make you cry."

Terry tried to approach, but the heat was becoming severe. He cursed himself, then crouched and planted both hands on the asphalt. The ground rumbled beneath his palms as he pulled energy up from the earth. He positioned the force beneath Iori's feet like a loaded gun. The moment the flaming man made any move to attack Rock, Terry would blast him to hell.

"Make me cry?! Hah! I'll take you on, duckling."

"What the hell does ducklin-..." Rage flickered across Rock's features as he caught the reference. He hissed at Iori. "I'm not related to ' _that man'._ Get Ready!"

"Fine then. Let's go."

Iori seemed unphased by his broken arm. He quickly snapped his shoulder back in place, then pulled off his shirt and wrapped it into a makeshift sling. He stood sideways, his bad arm resting against his stomach, his good arm outstretched toward his opponent. His fingers shimmered with _something_. The fire on the ground died and the heat lifted. It seemed Iori didn't intend to use his flames for this match.

Unfortunately, Terry was past caring about the details. He was going to save his son, even if it meant blasting a recently-crippled man thirty feet in the air.

 _This really doesn't look good, heh._

"Get ready to die, How-"

The ground exploded.

Iori began screaming again.

Terry grabbed Rock by the back of his shirt, and sprinted toward the patrol car.

* * *

 _Yag must have a great (singing) range. His normal voice is pretty deep, but he spends a lot of time screaming at stuff._

 _lol Terry ruined everything. :( poor Rock._

 _Yag isn't dieded. don't worry. (I'll never kill him. NEVER)_

 _I initially wanted the ending to be some weird, funny twist where Iori just gets his arm popped out of socket, and he gets into an argument with Rock about something stupid. Then he just puts his arm back in, and they continue playing... but Iori's too much of an evil asshole to fit into my plot. So I decided to beat him up a little. (bby nooo, why are you so unreasonable!)_

 _Can we get some Kyo cameo next chapter? This story doesn't have enough sexual tension (KEK)_

 _I THINK story's almost done... I mean, the next chapter should be the last in the 'story' then one more chap for epilogue... but who knows. this thing could carry on for like twenty chapters lol... fk my life._

 _Shermie's a Baller_

 _Name this chapter - but not Jojo. (fam you got ch2 already. I love you.)_


	8. Tehwree Borghar

_Nobody beleives yag. :( poor bby._

 _R- y u eating BBQ w/ orange?_

 _I - It's not my fault, I was kidnapped._

 _R- yeh ok boss. Lul._

* * *

"You're breaking my heart, Yagami! I just finished developing a new technique, I wanted to try it on you."

Iori glared across the coffee table at the man sitting across from him. It was 7:30 in the morning and they were sitting outside a Starbucks on a busy pedestrian street, eating korean barbeque for breakfast. Kyo had dragged him to the supermarket and made him pay for three pounds of raw brisket, a jar of teriyaki sauce and a gallon of pickled cabbage. Now, they sat in the middle of breakfast goers, flash-frying beef and arguing.

"Is it that stupid windmill shit again? It's awful and you know it. Hurry up and cook this for me."

Early this morning, 5AM, Kyo Kusanagi hopped off an airplane, taxied himself into the slums of SouthTown, and waltzed through what remained of Iori's front door. Iori had been in a deep, drug induced sleep when Kyo shook him awake and demanded food. Normally this meant they would spend the next hour and a half punching each other in the streets, but Iori was high on painkillers and nursing a broken arm. He was is no shape for any kind of roughhousing.

Kyo didn't really seem to care that Iori was so hopped up on pain medication that he didn't know what was happening. He had already decided that he was going to spend the day either eating or fighting at his rival's expense. Kyo had quite literally picked him up and dragged him out of his house. By the time Iori came out of his drug-induced stupor, he was curled up in a shopping cart, drooling all over the Kimchi.

"My ' _stupid windmill shit'_ will blow you away. Heh... Cook it yourself! Why am I doing all the cooking?"

Iori frowned and briefly considered lunging across the table to punch that smug expression. The pain that shot up his shoulder as his splint knocked against the table convinced him otherwise.

"Why?! Cuz I bought everything! Besides, Riot's sleeping and I don't wanna wake him. Get cooking."

He plucked up a cut of meat in his chopsticks and jabbed it at Kyo until the man rolled his eyes and obliged him. The loud crackle of flames turned heads toward the strange scene. Iori frowned and looked down to check if he was breaking indecent exposure laws. Kyo hadn't been thoughtful enough to grab him any clothes before kidnapping him this morning. He was lucky to have worn shorts to sleep that night. Kyo contributed his elaborate white jacket, found some sandals in the car, and immediately demanded to be on their way.

Iori attire wasn't much worse than usual and he was still delirious from the ungodly amount of drugs in his system, so he agreed and let himself be dragged to SouthTown's tourist hub. He was now regretting it and was in a positively stormy mood. He waved his chopsticks aggressively at nothing as he angrily chewed fried beef.

Kyo smirked as he regarded his rival from across the table. He was dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans. He had a new, awful looking, haircut which he seemed very proud of. He tapped his chopsticks against the jar of pickled cabbage to get Iori's attention. Iori glared at him.

"You're a real bitch, y'know? Wake Riot up and let me talk to him. I like his company better than yours."

Iori growled and kicked at Kyo from under the table.

"You stay away from him! You have no business talking to him!"

"You're just jealous 'cause he likes me better."

"Like hell he does! Wanna fig-... "

Iori yelped as he mashed his arm against the table again. He cursed and grimaced down at it. Kyo began laughing obnoxiously.

"Alright, you gotta tell me how you broke your arm. And stop saying Terry did it. You can't expect anyone to believe that."

"I don't care if you believe me or not. Bogar-"

"You just fell down the stairs, right?"

Iori flung a piece of cabbage at his rival. Kyo instinctively guarded and the vegetable hit him in the arm with a wet smack. It shrivelled and popped as it burned. Kyo snorted at him and grinned.

"Come _on._ Don't be embarrassed, it could happen to anyone! You should get one of those life-alert things the old people hav-"

"Goddammit Kusanagi! I told you! I was playing basketball yesterday and Bogard appeared out of nowhere, tried to punched my arm off and launched me into a tree! Once this mends," Iori pointed at his cast with his chopsticks, "I'm gonna go bite his head off."

"Yeah, yeah sure. Just get some slip-resistant stuff on your stairs, man. I'll help you install it."

Iori was seething. Had Kyo Kusanagi always been this infuriating?... Maybe it was the drugs?… it didn't really matter. Iori wanted nothing more than to punch the man who watched him calmly from across the table, but wasn't willing to try it with a broken arm. Kyo seemed to know there wouldn't be a fight no matter _what_ nonsense he decided to pull, and grinned at him.

That cheeky confidence wasn't helping Iori's mood. He snarled across the table. The group of teenagers walking past jumped at the noise. They recognized the musician, snapped a couple of pictures, then scurried away as Iori turned to glare at them. He picked up another piece of meat and waited for it to catch fire, before shoving it into his mouth. He spoke while chewing.

"What the hell is so magical about Terry that he can't - Hey!"

Iori's phone began buzzing on the table. Kyo immediately reached over to snatch it up. For a moment, Iori forgot his arm was broken, and attempted to use it to smack Kyo's hand away. Pain shot up his elbow. He doubled over and howled something in spanish.

Everyone in the coffee shop went silent, then a group of hispanic kids in the corner table began laughing raucously.

Kyo started laughing as well, he picked up the phone, unlocked it, and poked at his rival with his foot. After a moment, Iori lifted his head off the table. The criss-cross pattern of the wire mesh was imprinted in his forehead. His voice came out as a low whisper.

"What do you want."

Kyo waggled his eyebrows then began reading off the caller ID in awful english.

" _Teh-ree Bor… gar_. Speak of the devil, huh? I'll ask him if he really broke your arm."

"You can try, nobody can understand you."

"Yeah, fuck you."

Kyo rolled his eyes and put the phone to his ear to answer the call.

" _Hellur?!"_

" _Hai Teh-ree… har… har ahr you?_ "

Iori placed his head back down on the table and closed his eyes.

 _This is gonna be a long fucking day._

* * *

Kyo's such an ass I love him.

 _I wonder_ why Terry is calling? jk I already know. Ha. author privedges.

Imagine holding an entire conversation with Kyo in english? lol what a nightmare.

Lol tigerking. I've got some sitcom lines in there for you.

So SouthTown in Florida. Yag speaks English cuz he lives in US. Kyo only speaks Japanese fluently. He's working on his English. Please support him.


	9. Tree Hugger

_yee._

 _Graphic imagery warning! please respect the trees. (lul)_

* * *

 _Dear Guest(s):_

 _\- Thank you for leaving reviews on my story. I love reviews more than anything._

 _R1- I didn't forget about you. CYS will make a cameo in the epilogue._

 _R4- I'm glad you like my bby *3* He's adorable, but if you ever meet somebody like him irl just leave._

 _R8- Lol, It'd be pretty funny seeing Dos Equis and Yag drinking together. I can't even imagine what they would discuss... like, shoot. What would YOU say to him lol._

* * *

Terry tapped at his kitchen counter and sighed.

His son wasn't happy with him. The stunt he pulled yesterday wasn't good for anyone. Not Iori, not Rock… especially not for Terry. Unless he did something soon, Iori would be roaming around looking to toast him sometime within the next two weeks.

 _How long does it take for bones to heal?... two weeks? Three?... maybe he's like an amoeba and will be here tomorrow. haaaah.… shit…_

Terry had messed up. Bad.

If only he hadn't forgotten his cellphone at the police station, all of this could've been averted. Hell, if he had stayed a few seconds longer on the landline with Mary, everything would've been fine. But it wasn't _really_ his fault he just didn't have the right information. It was just bad luck…. And anyways, who could blame him for what he did? He was just trying to being a good father… he had good intentions.

 _Maaay-be Iori will accept an explanation?... heh, no way… dammit… sorry Rock._

Rock had, understandably, been angry. Terry could tell because his son spent all day out of the house, and only spoke to him to say he was sleeping at a friend's place that night. He had a bitter air about him - as if he had just been robbed.

 _I guess I did… steal his opportunity… damn…_

The boy had been excitedly looking to be part of Iori's band. It seemed like he was pretty close to achieving his goal too... until Terry busted in, snapped Iori's arm, and geyser-ed him into a pine tree. The redhead went batshit - and for once, it was completely understandable.

 _That's something I never thought I'd ever say… think…_

Terry raised his coffee to his lips and pondered his situation.

He had broken Iori Yagami's arm with a sucker-punch, so, if he didn't want his head to randomly catch fire one day, he needed to challenge the psycho and fight this out. Violence was always the answer to Iori's problems. Violence in the form of petty, pre-arranged street fights. It was the stupidest thing ever, but Terry was willing to play by the rules. He would rather get his arm sliced open than come home one day to find his house had exploded.

Fighting was the easy part. Terry Bogard could deal with the fighting. It was going to be painful and _really_ annoying and he would probably have to endure legendary amounts of bitching - but that was something he was confident he could do. They'd set a date to fight, they'd beat each other shitless... and then they'd be good. Clean slate. Those were Iori's rules. They were very strange, and actually, very convenient.

 _What a nutjob… what if I break your other arm, huh?... oh shit, he'll just demand another fight… dammit… alright alright. I guess it's a short term solution…_

Yes, fighting was the easy part. It was simple, straightforward and didn't involve any convincing. The hard part involved convincing Iori to give Rock a second shot at joining his band. Terry didn't know what he was going to say to the insane man, but there was no use in procrastinating. He wasn't particularly good in persuasion, but for the sake of his son, his needed to give it his best shot.

 _Alright Rock… Wish me luck…_

Terry picked up his phone and found ' _Psycho Bitch #3 (Iori Yagami)'_ in his contact list. He hesitated for a moment, before hardening his resolve and mashing 'call'.

 _What the hell do I even say… I should've written something down first! Gah, okay… okay..._

*Brrrr. Click -*

 _*Hellur?!*_

Terry blinked in confusion. Had Iori changed his phone again?

"Uh… This is Terry Bogard, I'm looking for Ior- I mean, Yagami. Can I talk to Yagami?"

* _Hai Tarry! Har ahr you? Is Kyo Kusanagi!*_

"Kyo? Hey there. Uh, are you in America?"

 _*Yas… Fly… tree… Oy, Yagami! …(japanese)*_ There was a long pause. _*... I floo in ah tree ay am_ *

Terry smiled despite himself. Kyo's English was the worst he'd ever heard. It was adorable because it made the man sound downright retarded. Normally Terry was happy to practice English with his japanese friend, but today his son's musical career was on the line. He needed to talk to Iori.

"That's really nice man. Hey, Iori's there, right? Pass the phone to him, I have to take care of something. It's important."

Kyo didn't seem to understand him and continued butchering the English language.

 _*Arhm… You break? … Yagami! … (japanese)*_ Another long pause. _*Deed you break Yagami arhm…? *_

"...Yes. I broke his arm. Can I please talk to him?"

Kyo began laughing uncontrollably. There was somebody yelling angrily in the background. Terry rolled his eyes and wracked his brain for something to say once Iori got on the line.

A bit of time passed before Kyo started speaking English again. Terry felt badly about it, but was relieved to hear Kyo was saying his goodbyes. The man was much easier to deal with when he didn't bother speaking and just used an online translator.

 _*Ok, Tarry. Talk … at Yagami… ok?*_

Terry heard a voice in the background correct him with a ' _Talk to Yagami, you fucking autist'._

"Alright, thanks Kyo."

 _*To Yagami, you… awtis?… (japanese)... Ok. Ok! Talk to Yagami. Bye Ter-rhee.*_

"Bye."

Terry's attention was pulled away from the phone by the sound of shuffling outside his front door. Rock was back from his friend's house. The door creaked open, spilling sunlight into the apartment. Terry waved his son over before the mopey teenager could escape to his bedroom. Rock visibly slumped before tossing his backpack into the couch and gloomily trudging over to the counter. He stood there, looking annoyed.

Terry put the phone on speaker.

There was muffled thumping over the phone as it changed hands. Rock and Terry listened to snippets of angry japanese before Iori began slurring into the phone. He sounded drunk.

* _Terry Bogard you asshole what the fuck do you want_ *

"Hey, Iori, I just wanted to apolog-"

 _*Actually I don't care what you want… I'm going to snap your neck. Why the hell did you fucking attack me?! If you want a fight, I'll give you one. You're a fucking coward you know that?*_

"Yeah, uh-"

Rock turned to leave.

* _You didn't even have the guts to fight me after you broke my arm! That poor Howard kid tried to stand up for you, and you fucking ran. Fuck you. Legendary Wolf my ass._ *

"... wait, what did you sa-"

Rock scurried back to the counter.

 _*I liked him! Unlike you, he has guts… and is damn good at basketball. Little brat even tried to fight me! And then you had to show up and scare him away. Why the hell were you even there?! You have some beef with me? Cuz now I sure as hell have beef with you!*_

"Rock Howard is-"

Iori wasn't listening. His ranting was becoming increasingly louder, and decreasingly coherant.

 _*It's all your fault that I'm fucking sitting here with an autistic man and high as all hell on fucking morphine. Why the hell did you- did you just wanna ruin my day? shit! I can ruin your day! I can ruin a lot of days! … Did you know they called the fire department to get me out of that tree? Have you ever climbed with a broken arm? Because I'm not a fucking cat!*_

Terry wasn't sure what Iori was talking about, but it seemed there was a glimmer of hope. Iori wasn't holding Rock accountable for his broken arm. In fact, he saw the boy favorably despite the circumstances. Terry gave his son a thumbs up then leaned over the phone to speak into the receiver.

"Hey, man, can you calm down a sec? Just take a deep breath and-"

Iori took a deep breath and howled.

 _*Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! There were pine needles up my ass, Bogard! Pine. Fucking. Needles. There's nothing you can say that - KUSANAGI YOU PIECE OF SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK- (japanese)*_

Terry and Rock winced as they tried to suppress the graphic imagery. The sounds of hell which emitted from over the phone were punctuated by laughing and the crackling of flames. It took nearly a full minute for Iori to get back on the line. He wasn't any happier when he did.

 _*I'm going to come blow up your house. Tell me where you live.*_

"...Why would I… Okay, look man. I need you to shut up and listen to me. All of this was just a big misunderstanding. Just calm down and let me explain."

 _*A misunderstanding? Oh, great. Great. Please convince me my elbow isn't bent the wrong way.*_

"Is your elbow really bent the wrong way?"

 _*... no, but that's not the point. The point is, you're wasting my time. I don't have time to listen to you rant. Hurry up and say what you want to say.*_

" _Me_ rant?! You're the one…Okay, okay fine. Look. Rock Howard is my son, alright? He called me sayi-"

 _*Wait. I forgot that I don't care. You broke my arm, so we're gonna schedule a time to murder the shit out of each other. Buy health insurance so you can afford a new liver. I'm high as fuck right now so leave me alone. I need to find that Howard kid...*_

"He's my so-"

 _*Shut up.*_

*Click*

Terry just stared at his phone for a moment before turning to Rock. Iori Yagami was a headache personified, and dealing with him was just as bad as it sounded. But as Terry watched a smile grow on his son's face, he decided it was well worth the trouble.

* * *

I love writing bad-english Kyo so much. he's great.

Somebody deffo recorded Yag screaming about the pine needles up his bum. He's on a pretty busy street lol.

K so... uh epilogue next.


	10. Epilogue: Dead and Gone

_Tmw your epilogue is longer than all ur other chapters._

 _thanks for sticking around. Lets close out the stupidity on a positive note. Rock's part of Yag's posse now. :3. Adorable._

 _(EDIT 9/19): Taking Shit- Talking Shit. Best typo of the year lol. I'll star it*_

* * *

"... wait… so you're saying you broke _Iori Yagami's_ arm in a 1-on-1 street fight? Bullshit."

Rock grinned and shook his head. No. He wasn't _bullshitting_ … he was just exaggerating - a little bit. Just enough to spice up the story. There was nothing wrong with that, right? Rock Howard put on his most rugged face and tried to sound disinterested as he replied. He wasn't disinterested. He was extremely excited… but being excited wasn't manly, right? _The girls don't like that... right?_

"The guy's not that big a deal… not to me anyways. I mean, he's just like anyone else. I've broken plenty of arms, I can't really say his was much different."

Some scoffed. Some whispered to each other in low voices. Still others stared at him in unabashed wonder. All eyes were on him, and he was drinking up the attention. He kept right on going.

"Dunno why, but he was really shocked that I could fight him. Well I mean, he _was_ pretty good…but you know." Rock gave his best nonchalant shrug. "I helped him up. He asked me to join the band. The rest is history. I just finished auditioning yesterday, actually, so it's official. No bullshit."

His small audience chittered, some in disbelief, some in delight. Rock planted his elbow against the table and leaned his chin against his hand. He was sitting with his friends at one of the tables in the campus's mess halls for lunch when he told them the exciting news. They were the ones who initially encouraged him to try and join the band. Evidently, despite their encouragement, none of them really thought he would make it. When he told them he was officially the newest member of Iori's band, they just laughed.

They made such a ruckus that other people inevitably heard snippets of their conversation and gathered around. A girl with blonde pigtails tugged on his sleeve.

"So, um… Rock, Right? Are you telling me that you actually met him?! What's he like!"

Yeah, the crowd wasn't his usual group… There were a disproportionate amount of girls gathered around him. It was making him nervous. And when Rock Howard got nervous, he found himself fibbing. Twisting stories around, mixing facts, being creative. Oh, it was quite unintentional - but it usually led to wild exaggerations. Three minutes in and he was pretty much lying through his teeth.

"Yup. I did meet him. He's uh… well he was really serious about fighting, you know - just like in the tournaments. He was trying to intimidate me the whole time, but after I beat him up, he started showing me some respect. A pretty cool guy, overall."

Rock nodded and grinned as the girls chattered with each other. The guys rolled their eyes and grumbled. They weren't buying Rock's story, but at this point he didn't care. There were girls here, and as long as there were girls here, he would just keep going.

"Of course, if he wasn't cool, I wouldn't join. It's not like I went out looking for him either. I just ran into him on the street and we started fighting. After I won, he was pretty much begging for-..."

Rock's cellphone, which had been sitting on the table, began buzzing loudly. It rattled violently against the plastic tabletop, drawing the eyes of the crowd. They leaned in to read the caller ID.

' _IORI (BAND)'_

* _Brrrrrr_ *

The girls squealed before turning to stare expectantly at him. More people had gathered around the table. There were whispers in the group, but for the most part, they remained silent.

All eyes were on him.

His eyes were on it.

He suddenly recalled that Iori Yagami was essentially a supernatural being. If he could control flames, who could say he didn't have weird mind-powers… maybe he knew Rock was talking about him… _does he know I'm talking shit?!*_

One of his friends saw his hesitation and snatched up the phone before he could. Rock turned to try to grab it from him, but it was too late. His friend squinted at the number, then loudly proclaimed:

"Ey, Rocky. I kinda recognize this number… I bet you just changed your Dad's contact name or something, right?"

"Holy Shit, Adam! Don't-"

With a wicked grin, Adam answered the call and laid the phone down on the tabletop. He leaned over to shout into the receiver. The rest of the crowd leaned in with him. They had fallen into a hopeful silence.

"Hey, Mr. Terry! How are you doing today?"

 _*...*_

The silence turned awful. A couple of people began turning away, shaking their heads and muttering to each other. The guys in his group all began grinning and poking at him. The girls made disappointed noises. Rock stared stubbornly at the phone. _Please don't hang up, man… Don't do this to me._

"Hehehe, Gotcha Rocky! You thought you could tri-"

Rock elbowed Adam in the shoulder and opened his mouth to protest. He had never wanted to hear the sound of Iori's feral snarling so badly. His entire social life was on the line right now, and all he needed was Iori to start yelling. _Oh, come on. Please…_

Iori began spitting into the phone. Rock's face lit up.

 _*... Who the fuck is this and where the fuck is Howard?!*_

Iori's weird accent couldn't be mistaken for anything. The girls in the group began screaming. Adam reeled as if he'd been struck. His friends stared at him, speechless. Rock grinned, flipped them off and snatched up his phone.

 _*What the hell is going on! Talk or I'll come and bash your brains out! Did you assholes fucking kidnap my bassist? Because I will fu-*_

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up."

 _*-ck you up! I'm going to come find you and melt your eyeballs. Tell me where you are s-!*_

Rock shushed the crowd then leaned in to interrupt Iori before he got too graphic. He sounded drunk again. He was normally quite terse, but when he was on pain meds he _really_ could talk forever. The crowd quickly fell silent and leaned in to listen.

"Hey! Iori it's me. I'm fine. Don't do anything alright? My friends are just kinda loud… did you need something?"

 _*Yeah I did. I wanted to ask… uh…*_

Rock sighed in relief. If Iori needed something, it meant he _wasn't_ telekinetic, and _wasn't_ calling to bust apart Rock's elaborate lies.

 _*...Wait, Shit…*_

There was a sizeable pause. Rock blinked and smiled blandly at his cell. The crowd murmured and chuckled. Miss Pigtails cupped her face in both hands and stared dreamily at the phone.

 _*... God damn. I think these painkillers are giving me Alzheimer's. Anyways, I need a favour. Remember CYS?*_

"C...Y…?" Miss Pigtails quickly googled for him. He leaned over and read her phone before nodding his thanks. "You mean that one band that … died… three years ago?"

 _*Yeah, them. So, that Yashiro bitch is like a clingy fucking ex. He's mad about some gig I stole from him forever ago and-... well whatever. He can't beat me in a fight, so he challenged me to that dancing arcade game. You know? The footsies one?*_

"Uh...Dance Dance Revolution?... Wait what do you mean he _is_ mad _._ He WAS mad… right?"

 _*Stop being a bitch and listen, okay? So, I've gotta go play DDR with that dick, but my arm is in two pieces and I've got a bruise the size of New Hampshire on my left butt. I look like a fucking penguin when I walk and it's great. I love it. Anyways, there's no way I'm gonna dance. I need you to stand in for me. They're gonna be there at two.*_

Rock blinked. The crowd murmured.

"Hey, Iori… CYS isn't around anymore. They're dead."

 _*So what? You have something against dead people? Don't be racist. Are you gonna play or not? I'll pay you if that's the problem. Anyways, I'll try to join you, but Vice and Mature just came back and they're trying to make up for a year of not eating anything. I don't think these fatties are gonna be done anytime soo- Ow, OW! Stop it!*_

It was taking a moment for Rock to process all the information he was being given. The crowd had fallen into a confused silence as well.

"Wait… a year?!... what do you mean a year?! Are-" Rock squinted at his cellphone. "Hey, Yagami… are you ok? Are you sure those were painkillers? Maybe you should go lie down somewhere."

Iori was preoccupied with being pinched and didn't hear anything Rock said. It was a full minute before he returned. He seemed intent on roping Rock into his strange - and frankly impossible- plan.

 _*Alright, kid. So you down? Get your ass to the arcade on seventh and beat Yashiro so he stops calling me. I'll tell him you're my stand in. You don't need to worry about beating Shermie, and Chris won't bother playing. He's more into the shooters. Say hi to him for me if I can't make it.*_

Rock stared blankly at the phone. He was a bit fixated on the fact that his proposed opponents had _died_ and _been buried_ for three years. Dead people didn't just come back to life. And they definitely didn't come back to play DDR.

 _Vice and Mature haven't EATEN in a year? … yeah. He's just hallucinating…_

Iori was clearly suffering another bout of insanity… Right? If he wasn't, he couldn't be so completely unphased by the absurdity of this scenario. Of course, Rock was still trying to figure his boss out, he had only spent a total of, perhaps, two hours in Iori's company. During yesterday's audition, the man had been all business. They simply sat down in a music store with a guitar and worked their way through a Beatles album. The fact that Iori could behave so normally made it that much more jarring when halfway through ' _Here Comes the Sun'_ , he stood up and loudly threatened to _snap his own neck_ if the voice in his head didn't shut up.

Rock looked down at his phone and grimaced. How the hell was he supposed to beat a dead person in DDR. What would happen if he just didn't go… _nothing, Right?_

Iori didn't wait for him to figure stuff out. He kept right on talking.

 _*Anyways, you were probably thinking Yashiro is the main threat, but lemme tell you. Shermie's completely nuts. I've played against her every year for the past three years and I've never won. She's absolutely ridiculous. She plays in fucking heels too! It's like getting beaten to death with a teaspoon. It's fucking embarrassing, I'm-*_

The girl with pigtails leaned over to speak into the receiver. Her voice was full of concern. Rock was too engaged with his own thoughts to stop her.

"Hi! Mr. Yagami, sir. Did Rock Howard really break your arm? Will you be okay? It's not permanent, right?"

Rock almost died on the spot.

 _*-starting to think she uses her lightning to chea-*_ Iori heard the interruption and stopped talking immediately. There was a long pause, then Iori's voice dropped into a hostile snarl.

 _*Who the hell are you?!*_

Miss Pigtails seemed startled at the rough response. She stuttered as she spoke. Rock was more scared than she was. He wanted to sink into the ground.

"Oh, I-I'm just Rock's… uh, friend. He t-told us… uh… he said… "

 _*Wait, have I been on fucking speaker this whole time?*_

"..."

The members of the crowd looked guiltily at each other. Silence reigned. It was the only answer Iori needed.

 _*God, Rock. What the hell man. Alright, whatever. What did you say, miss?*_

Miss Pigtails continued to stutter.

"R-Rock … broke your arm?"

 _*... what?*_

"He s-said he broke… uh… he beat you in a fight... "

 _*Rock Howard said he beat ME?*_

"Y-yes?... I-I'm sorry... Uh... "

There was a long pause, then Iori barked from the phone speakers.

 _*Howard! Yes!?*_

Deadly silence permeated the air. The crowd looked to him. His friends weren't smirking anymore. The pigtails girl was staring holes in his skull. Rock wanted to run away. He had lied through his teeth - and now he was going to pay for it. This story would spread through his school like wildfire. Nobody would ever believe him again… maybe Iori would get pissed and kick him from the band too… then he really would have nothing. _Why am I such an idiot… oh god…_

Rock leaned over the phone. He tried to keep his voice from shaking.

"Yeah. That's … what I told them."

 _*...*_

Rock stared at the table. There was a pit of dread in his gut. Everything was crumbling around him. He closed his eyes and waited for Iori to begin railing at him.

 _*... You're his friend?*_

Rock flinched. Miss Pigtails piped up.

"Yes!"

 _*Then you're a shitty one. Why don't you believe him? Are you gonna call and confirm everything he says? Are you a lawyer or something?*_

The crowd murmured. Rock raised his head in disbelief.

 _*If he said he broke my arm, then he broke my arm. Don't waste my time with stupid questions. My people aren't liars... And Howard, since you decided it was a good idea to snap my shoulder, you're going to the arcade and playing for me. No excuses.*_

If Iori had been sitting next to him, Rock would've tried to hug him.

 _*Anyways, I've gotta warn you. Don't get distracted by Shermie's tits. They're like fucking balloons, man. You've gotta put blinders on when you play her. Yashiro is actually pretty ass at DDR, so you'll win as long as you're not staring at Shermie. I'll meet you there as soon as Vice and Mature finish stuffing their faces. Arcade on Seventh. Don't disappoint me.*_

"O-okay. Thanks-… I mean, yeah I'll go play."

 _*Great. Go kick his ass. Also, if you lose, I'm blowing up your house. No pressure.*_

"Wai-"

*Click*

* * *

 _\- you deffo know Rock spent the whole time staring at Shermie and lost. I hope Yag wasn't srs about blowing up rock's house. Padre'll be mad._

\- also Rock got in the band kek. I wonder how long he'll last.

\- Vice+mature come back to life every year for like a month right before KOF time. If they can come back, why can't CYS? (They show up at his front door and make him take them out to eat) Im deffo gonna do a Team Yagami fic soon.

K fams. thanks for reading. That's the last chapter. Cheers. Stay tuned for more idiocy. :0


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